Fragmented
by Kickwarp
Summary: Soundwave finds himself in an impossible, unpredictable situation when he attempts to escape from the Shadowzone. And apparently things can only get worse on from here.
1. Musing

Soundwave was not grieving.

It was a common-known fact that Decepticons did not grieve. Grieving was for the soft mechs, the Autobots. Decepticons were not weak. Decepticons were strong, invincible. Knock Out hadn't shuttered an optic lid when he'd heard Breakdown was gone. He'd just moved on with life, as cheery, narcissistic, and psychopathic as usual. Even caused a zombie apocalypse with his dead partner's body.

They did not grieve aloud.

But Soundwave was still not grieving.

He tugged at the wires in his left arm. He'd unscrewed the plating, a procedure that should have only been confined to an operating room under deep anesthesia, with an _experienced_ physician in charge.

Soundwave did not have that luxury. He didn't have anything.

The Decepticon carefully rerouted the wires, taking care not to tangle them. It was painful, yes, but what was that compared to loneliness?

He pulled too hard, purposely causing a jolt of agony to surge through his limb. He could _not_ think like that. It was the past. Decepticons did not dwell on the past. They strived for what the future held.

What did _his _future hold?

Megatron was gone, dead, and he had done nothing to stop it.

He shouldn't think about it. He shouldn't. It was against the regulations.

Perhaps if Dreadwing hadn't have been a fool, Megatron would still be alive. Perhaps if Dreadwing had offlined instead of Skyquake. Skyquake wouldn't have helped the Autobots. Skyquake had been so, so loyal.

Perhaps if Soundwave had gone along with Dreadwing instead of Breakdown. Maybe Airachnid would be dead. And with that, Knock Out's enthusiasm for dissection and experiments would only have been done on Vehicons. Then maybe he wouldn't have been inspired by Starscream to use Synthetic and Dark Energon together. Airachnid wouldn't have been released, and the Insecticons would still have been around, plus half the Vehicon troops.

Starscream. If Starscream had offlined, so many of these problems would have been solved. Soundwave didn't even want to count the number of victories they would have had without Starscream tagging along.

Shockwave. If only Shockwave hadn't created that cybermatter to revive Cybertron. Then that little yellow mech would have never come back. That little yellow mech would have died, and Megatron would still be living.

Soundwave didn't know why he was continuing on with this train of thought. His long, deft fingers twisted the wires, carefully setting them back in their places. He dealt with the pain like a mech. He wasn't a medic. He didn't keep useful supplies in his subspace. He kept nothing in his subspace.

He couldn't. Not after his history.

Laserbeak let out a comforting hum. Soundwave paused, halfway through his work, seeing that he had clenched his left hand. He uncurled his fingers, and stared at them for a moment.

He wondered vaguely what the Decepticons were doing. Was Starscream offline? Shockwave?

Everyone offlined, one way or another.

But that scout had offlined. And then come back. Soundwave knew that the first thing he was doing once he got out of this place ('Welcome to the Shadowzone, dude' as the human had said) that the yellow scout was going. And he wasn't going to let it come back this time. He would tear off its plating, piece by piece, making sure that it would feel agony. Megatron would have wanted the yellow bot to end like that. He remembered that the doorwings of ground-based Cybertronians were delicate and sensitive, like Seeker wings. They would go first.

Soundwave picked up the plating that he had carefully set on the ground, the only solid thing in this dimension apparently, and started to screw it back on. His processor was on other things, drowning out the sting of his unprofessional talent at disassembly.

His loss in Kaon. That was when he'd started his vow of silence.

Why had he broken his vow to speak to the Autobots? They didn't deserve to know his voice. Nobody did. Not even Megatron knew it. That was when they'd established their friendship. Friendship? Could he even call it a friendship? The only mech that had ever trusted Soundwave with his life. Was that friendship? Loyalty and friendship were two very different things.

Laserbeak chirped softly as her master stood, wiggling his fingers a bit. Hopefully, a spacebridge would open, with the wires rerouted, and he could get the frag out of this horrific dimension. Soundwave put his arm forward, and accessed the last coordinates he'd used, going to the Nemesis. It would work. He hoped it would work.

A surge of energy went through his thin limb, heating it up. The green portal started to piece itself together, building up into a round whirlpool. Soundwave gazed at it in relief; his unprofessional medical work _hadn't_ gone to waste. He stepped forward, feeling the heat of the bridge on his plating. Back home. He would be back home.

His _entire_ frame heated up. His left arm started burning with agony. He glanced down in confusion, feeling a sense of dread, and déjà vu. The same. What was happening this time?

And then, a pop, and an explosion. His vision blanked out for a moment, and then came back online. Megatron. He was going to join Megatron. That was all. That was all he could think of as his surroundings exploded.

* * *

_**Like it? Hate it? Review!**_

_**A very short intro. The chapters will be longer, I promise.**_


	2. Confusion

**_Systems:__ Online_**

**_Frame Functionality: Eighty-nine percent_**

_**Designation: Soundwave**_

* * *

Soundwave's chassis hurt, and ached all over, as he slowly regained consciousness. Laserbeak was still attached to his chestplates, thank Primus, and his left arm was very sore.

Twisting over onto his back, the TIC pushed himself up with his right hand, turning his helm to his left limb. It _looked_ fine, but throbbed painfully.

**_Injury: Internal_**

As he brought himself to his pedes, Soundwave noticed that the blue tint of the Shadowzone was gone. But the usual comm streams were still missing. He tried to access them. He wondered what had happened. Had Starscream messed with something? Hmph. He couldn't be gone for an hour without that idiot ruining something.

**_Nemesis: Location unverified_**

**_Area: Unknown_**

He disliked this new information.

**_Nemesis communication attempt: Processing…processing…connection lost_**

He tried again.

**_Conclusion: Nemesis is nonexistent_**

Soundwave immediately deleted the suggestion. His processor was obviously damaged.

The Surveillance Chief flicked through his other recent memory files, but corrupted data was streamed back at him. He made an attempt at locating Starscream.

**_Location of Commander Starscream's current position: Nonexistant_**

Soundwave grew frustrated. Whatever had happened to his processor had been serious. It was giving him ridiculous answers to simple questions.

He checked twice to make sure Laserbeak wasn't hurt in any way. She was the one priority above carrying out Lord Megatron's orders. And since Lord Megatron was no more…

He knelt down, quickly unscrewing the plating on his arm, and tossing the panel aside carelessly. Frayed, sparking wires were what met his sight. No wonder it was hurting. They'd been destroyed. Well. No more groundbridging or spacebridging until he got this fixed. Which would be _when_?

**_Received: EM field in area_**

Soundwave glanced around the darkened clearing. Trees and random rocks surrounded him. The moon was glowing dimly from behind the clouds. He reached forward, and grabbed his plating, starting to firmly screw it back on.

**_Immediate danger: Unknown due to damage_**

**_Conclusion: Central core corrupted_**

Soundwave stood up, stepping forward, his slim frame casting a shadow on the dim ground. Rebooting his systems was out of the question, at least until he got back to the Nemesis.

**_Coordinates: Unknown_**

Soundwave gazed around, his biolights glowing faintly. He detected movement on the far side of the clearing, and silently moved behind a rock, crouching down. He wanted to know who and what was wandering about out here.

A figure came into view, smaller than Soundwave. From the frame type, he contemplated that it was the yellow scout. Oh, how he disliked _that _little Autobot. If he'd been in Megatron's place, he would have offlined him _immediately_.

**_Statement: Blasphemy of Lord Megatron. Abort_**

The Surveillance Officer watched the bot walk around. He could see the doorwings, held flat against the scout's back, and the angry clenching and unclenching of his servos. It would have been easier to see if he _hadn't_ been inclined to switch his paintjob around.

Lord Megatron would have been pleased. He was going to hurt this Autobot. Hurt it bad. Revenge. _Revenge._

And then, as the Autobot looked up, Soundwave knew something had gone very wrong.

Those big round optics weren't blue anymore. Either the scout had decided to take a disguise too far, or…OR…wait, was he green? Had he switched to green and black?

**_Conclusion: Optical receptors damaged_**

Soundwave, detecting no other Autobot EM fields around, silently rose to his full height, and stepped out into the open. He hadn't gotten the chance to kill that white Wrecker; nothing was holding him back this time. Laserbeak was safe, on his chestplates. And, oh, how he had longed to feel the Energon of an Autobot on his hands.

The scout swiveled around at the quiet footsteps. His crimson optics whirred, and, to Soundwave's surprise, he stepped forward.

At first the Communications Officer didn't understand the static screeches that emitted from the Autobot's vocalizer, harsh on his hearing, and scrambling his processor. But after getting over the initial pain of his audials, he adjusted his language receptors, turning down his audials in the process.

"_What did you do, 'Con?_" the scout snarled, pounding a fist into his palm, optic ridges arched down in anger, "_Get a mask to hide that pretty face of yours?_"

Soundwave was feeling increasingly uncomfortable. And that question did it. He'd had his visor for eons, even before the war had started. And he'd made sure to get rid of any evidence showing his face, which included pictures, descriptions, _and_ old medical files.

"_Gonna answer, Soundy?_"

**_Conclusion: Soundwave is hallucinating_**

Now, as the Autobot came closer, Soundwave could see the mars, and scratches on his paint, as well as those disturbingly large optics, glaring up at him. He seemed different, somehow. Perhaps the red was a minor clue. Ripoff artist. Green, like Skyquake, too.

**_Solution: Offline the problem_**

The Surveillance Chief dodged, as the scout subspaced a pair of blasters, and extended his tentacles, quickly latching onto one of the doorwings, and pulling the Autobot into the air. He squirmed, with a static scream of rage, "_You'd better put me down if you know what's good for you!_"

Soundwave tilted his helm sideways, getting a peculiar feeling. It was so surreal…it must be a dream.

He hadn't dreamt for so long.

The Autobot let out a half-pained shriek, as Soundwave suddenly swung him around by his doorwing. He liked the sound. He really should have done worse to the Wrecker-bot when he had the chance. Soundwave slammed the scout against the ground, and placed a pede on his left arm, pressing down on it until the weapon was subspaced. He started to resist.

"_Let me go, you fragging 'Con!_" the yellow, mostly-black bot shouted.

Instead, the Surveillance Chief placed a tentacle on the left doorwing's base. The Autobot tensed, and let out a low growl.

"_Slagging coward._" He spat, trying to push himself up with his free arm. Soundwave was still for a moment.

**_Autobot: Rude_**

**_Solution: Termination_**

But that didn't mean he had to make it quick.

Metal started to groan, as Soundwave tugged on the Autobot's doorwing. The scout let out a squeak, and a protestation, "_S-stop! Isn't the Decepticon motto along the lines of not harming felled enemies? Remember? You repeated it to me last time!_"

**_Answer to query: No._**

The metal gave away, and the Surveillance Chief ripped the door off of the Autobot's back. He let out a bloodcurdling scream of static, pain and fright suddenly radiating in waves from his EM field.

Soundwave felt good about himself.

Carefully placing his tentacle at the base of the other doorwing, he felt a shiver of delight as the scout let out a whimper, and a pained whine, "_P-please…stop._"

Cyan liquid was running down the scout's black-and-green back, glowing faintly as wires sparked. The Autobot was sobbing, Soundwave observed with interest. He enjoyed it when he brought his foes to tears. Ah, and it hadn't happened in so long. When was the last time? The carrier and her sparkling, was it? Both of them had shed coolant that day. He remembered dragging their offlined frames to the scrapheap—he'd even kept footage.

Strangled cries brought Soundwave back to the present. He tilted his helm down at the whimpering Autobot, wanting to drag this out. One doorwing, so far. Next one now, he supposed. The first had been slow. He would surprise the Autobot this time.

There was a screech of metal, as he twisted the doorwing around, wrenching it away. Energon splattered on his and the scout's frame. There was a high-pitched squeal, which then merged into static sobs. Soundwave gazed curiously at the two bent doors he was holding in front of his visor. He'd been told they were sensitive, like Seeker wings. It would make sense, by the way the Autobot was crying. Or maybe he was just because all Autobots were worthless slagheaps, and unable to take the slightest bit of discomfort.

"_M-mercy!_" he begged, the static in his voice—voice?—worsening. Soundwave flipped the scout over, and hoisted him into the air by his chestplates, with a single tentacle. He kicked feebly, Energon running down his frame in a continuous stream. The Surveillance Chief stared at him, reveling in the sight for a moment, before throwing him down onto the ground again, and leaning over the smaller bot, until his visor was inches from the round, crimson optics. He pressed down on the scout's neck with his left hand, pausing for a moment to take several snapshots of the tearful face, and then clenched down, hard, digging his long, slender fingers into the thin, malleable metal.

The Autobot made an attempt to speak, but all that came out was static. The red optics were dimming, and he had even given up struggling. He had given up _entirely_.

**_Conclusion: Autobot is losing Energon_**

And he was only getting started. How weak were these Autobots?

Soundwave sent a shock through the Autobot's frame, causing the optics to brighten, and another strangled scream to emit from his damaged vocalizer. He tightened his grasp around his neck, and contemplated. He was obviously losing Energon fast, and he didn't want him to die like that.

He placed a pede on the scout's chestplates, and wrenched his arm upward. There was a metal whine, and the round, red optics darkened, with the sound of his systems going offline. Soundwave tilted his helm.

**_Conclusion: Soundwave is turning into Airachnid_**

He held the Autobot's head at arms length, zoomed in, and took several more pictures. He had a feeling he would look back on these snapshots on bad days.

**_Received: EM fields in area_**

Sudden sound reached Soundwave's audials, and he whirled around. He didn't have time to do anything before something very heavy smashed into his visor. The Surveillance Chief stumbled back, and was unable to stay upright as he crashed to the ground.

**_Error: Audio receptors damaged_**

**_Error: Optical sensors damaged_**

**_Designation: Soundwave_**

He could see the bulky green Autobot standing over him. Wait, no, it wasn't green. It was blue. Blue? The femme was blue. Not the Wrecker.

"It's Wave," he heard, through the distorted static in his audials. Wave? _Wave?_

**_Designation: _****_Sound_****_wave_**

Soundwave could barely see. His processor was ringing, and he lay there dumbly, trying to make sense of his situation. His inner monitor was damaged, as well as the outside covering.

"He got Bee good, didn't he? Serves him right for running off again."

**_Voice print: Registering…registering…Wheeljack_**

"I got dibs on his high-grade."

**_Voice print: Bulkhead_**

Purple. There were purple Autobots? He tilted his visor sideways at the Wheeljack Autobot that was standing over him now. Yes. Definitely purple. How odd.

**_Conclusion: Autobot trickery_**

Even the optics were now red, from what he could see past the crack in his visor. But why were they being so nonchalant about their offlined partner? That was very un-Autobot like.

"What did the 'Con do to his face?"

The Wheeljack Autobot was suddenly crouching next to him, staring. Soundwave reacted, and suddenly threw out a kick, his tentacles extending, and rising up like snakes ready to strike. The Wrecker stumbled backward from the force of his pede coming into contact with his chestplates.

**_Designation: Soundwave_**

He struggled to his pedes, and held up his arms in a defensive pose. These Autobots were different. Their dead partner was lying on the ground dismembered, and what were they doing? Dibbing on his high-grade.

Something was seriously wrong with that.

"Oh, look. He's actually going to fight this time." The green—blue—Wrecker sneered, "Not make sore attempts at convincing us otherwise."

These Autobots were insane. That much Soundwave managed to grasp through his damaged system. Red-opticed nutcases, running around calling themselves Autobots with Autobot symbols on their frames.

**_Conclusion: Soundwave's systems took more damage than previously contemplated _**

**_Result: Soundwave broken_**

He was not. He was perfectly fine. It was the Autobots that seemed to be majorly confused as to what their faction did. Perhaps they'd had a change of spark. Maybe the Decepticon goal looked better than the Autobot goal. It was certainly more interesting, even if you had to constantly be looking behind your back.

But still. The red optics weren't fair. The Decepticons had red optics, not the fragging Autobots. They couldn't just do that. Why not pink? Pink would suit the Autobots just fine. Pink like Airachnid's optics.

**_New Autobot Designation: Autonot._**

They were circling around him, looking strangely suspicious. What was there to be suspicious about? He was Soundwave, they were stupid Autobots, and their factions were warring. There was nothing complicated about that.

"Tell us, Wavey," the now-purple Wrecker spat out, "What inspired you to hide those pretty faceplates of yours?"

Practically the same question the yellow Autobot had asked him. Pretty face? When had he ever not had a visor to hide his 'pretty' face?

"You gonna tell us? Or are we going to have to extract it forcibly?" the green—BLUE—one pounded his fist into his palm. Soundwave regarded them coolly; something had obviously fried their circuits. He wasn't frightened of a pair of mad Autobots. Auto_nots_. They tried to be intimidating, but it wasn't working. It might have, on a lesser 'Con, but not _Soundwave_, even despite his sore arm, and slightly impaired sight. And that nickname. It was _Sound_wave, not Wave, Wavey, or whatever the frag they had firmly ingrained in their empty helms.

He stared in disapproval at the Wheeljack Autobot. Purple was a _Decepticon_ color, the color of Dark Energon. Autobots were not purple. They were other colors. White suited them perfectly well. Even if purple made it easier to see the Energon when brutally massacred.

And the way they were trying to get him to talk. As if he did talk. He hadn't spoken for literally eons, and he wasn't going to break his vow of silence again, especially to say something to _Autobots_. No matter how odd they were acting. Primus forbid he ever got another notion like _that_.

"So, Wavey-sweetie," the Wheeljack one was tossing around a grenade, "You gonna talk?"

**_Designation: SOUNDWAVE_**

Soundwave stared warily at the grenade, uncomfortable about it. His optical sensors were still damaged, and his audials weren't functioning to their full extent. Well, it was the price you had to pay with a visor hooked up to your neural net. Suffer trauma to the visor, you suffer trauma to your entire processor functions. Everything had a price. Even small things had a price.

And he darted forward, throwing the Autobot to the ground, and swerving around to meet the blue Wrecker. Wait. Where was the blue Wrecker?

A heavy hit to the back of his helm, and a ringing silence answered his question. Soundwave confusedly found himself staring up at the cloudy sky. How the frag had he been snuck up on? He was _Soundwave_. Soundwave _did not_ get surprises.

His vision was marred. He could see the vague, fuzzy shapes of the two Autobots, the bulky one, and the one with the swords, standing over him. Well. Time to die, he supposed. It was better than living out his days in the Shadowzone.

Soundwave, in stubborn determination, pushed himself up. _Kill him. Kill him now._ A pede was slammed down on his midsection, forcing him onto his back again. He couldn't find the will to resist.

"He's not gonna die easily. Might as well drag him back to base. He's their comm officer, right?"

Rude. _Rude, rude, rude._

Another blow, chipping off the tip of one of his helm decorations. That was all it took. Lovely dimness cornered his sight, and then made its way to the center. Like a cloud. Or a shadow.

And there was silence.

Nothing but silence.


	3. Fury

_Well._

_Soundwave got captured by Autobots. Again. And it probably won't turn out as well as last time did. _

_For an instance, no smiley-faces will be used._

* * *

He tapped his fingers against a hard surface.

He closed his hands, tugging upward, insistently.

He tried to raise his sore arm first. There was something pressing down on it.

Soundwave's vision onlined and he gazed around in confusion, optics behind his ruined visor flitting around. Wait. _Waaaait_. Wait, wait, wait, _wait_ a moment. This was _not_ Knock Out's medical bay. And why was he cuffed to the berth? Was this some elaborate prank?

Oh. Autobots. Oh, yes. Brutes. Very rude brutes, they were, refusing to use his name properly. His helm was throbbing from the several hits he'd received from those Wreckers.

"Well, well, _hello_ there, Soundwave."

He jerked his helm to the side, looking up. The Autobot's medical officer grinned back at him, unsettlingly close to the berth, standing over him. An eerie grin…wait, he wasn't orange and white. He was a light blue, with black where the orange would have been. Red optics…red optics again? Seriously, pink would suit them much better.

"So, Soundwave. How _are_ you feeling today? You do look terrible, you know."

Yes. That was a mocking tone. He felt like scrap. And the Autobot knew it. Where was Laserbeak?

"So, I see you had a makeover. The purple biolights are a _very_ nice addition. Better than the blue ones, I must say."

Soundwave flinched as his visor rim was tapped lightly. A makeover? Either he was going insane, or the Autobots were. Well, they already were rather nutty, with all the human contact. Enough of that would make anyone's IQ drop.

"Although, they are rather obvious, don't you think? Also, the new paintjob. I thought the purple looked nicer on you. Get a repaint, did you? It's very _dark_."

There was an underlying tone of amusement. Soundwave hated it. He hated Autobots. But he didn't do anything, and instead glanced around the room, at the blinking terminals. Where was Laserbeak?

"So, Wave, dear, are you going to speak to me, or give me the silent treatment?" The medic smiled ominously down at him, red optics glimmering. Like Knock Out's. The resemblance was unsettling. Though, the insane glint they held was worse. Knock Out had that, to some level, but not _this_ level.

**_Designation: Soundwave_**

What was with the fragging nickname?

"And, you see, Soundwave—"

He placed his hand firmly on Soundwave's helm, and turned his visor, forcing him to look left, at a mangled green frame on a lab table. There was a _clink, clink, clink_ as Soundwave momentarily tried to struggle against his grip. Of course, his frame was still held down by the stasis cuffs, and he stopped after a moment. He shouldn't expend his energy.

"That is a pile of dead scout. Though he was useless, he was still our scout. Now," the Autobot turned his visor, and glared down at him, "I'm going to ask you some questions that may or may not require the shedding of Energon. All right? First one, I thought Decepticons weren't sadists. What you did to him would usually be horrific in your faction's optics. So, what inspired a change of spark? Get tired of all that slag about being friendly? Didn't think you were capable, after that little speech you gave us last time."

Soundwave really wanted him to stop touching his visor. Personal contact had never been a hobby of his, and Autobots seemed to have a thing for it. Whether they had red optics or blue. _Creeps._

"Speak up. I cannot hear you."

That was because he wasn't talking.

The Autobot released his helm, and stepped back, putting his servos on his hips, "So, you're going to be stubborn, are you? We-e-ell, no worries." He shook a finger, "I have plenty in store for you, Wave."

This wasn't like his last encounter with the Autobots, where they'd…not been crazy. Soundwave worriedly kept looking around for Laserbeak. He hadn't deployed her, so they must have taken her forcibly. That couldn't be good.

**_Designation: Soundwave_**

And suddenly the Autobot's hand was on his helm again, forcing it to the side. Soundwave felt tugging at a piece of plating, and a panel slid away, which was carelessly flicked to the floor with a clatter. Oh. Oh, no, no, no... They were connecting to his neural net, and he wasn't sure if their equipment was good enough to hack his firewalls or not. He contained the anxiety in his EM field, and instead focused on staring ahead at the green corpse. He really had done a lovely job with that mess, even if it had ended in captivity.

He felt momentarily dizzy as a cable was jammed into the side of his helm, and a strange feeling as it connected with his processor. Well, more or less. And what exactly was _this_ designed to do?

"So, Soundwave. We're going to do a little _experiment_. It's called 'Answer, or Pain'. Still working on the title. I'll ask you one very simple question first. What is with this visor?"

The Autobot tapped the cracked glass, earning a flinch from Soundwave. He raised his optic ridges, red optics curious, with a slight touch of sadism to them, "Well?"

Soundwave played back the medic's voice, distorted and slightly sped up, with static mixed in from his damaged system, "_What i-i-i-is with—you—_"

"Hmm? What is with _me_? Nothing at all. I should be the one asking _you_ that question."

Without warning, the Autobot pressed several controls on the terminal beside the berth, and Soundwave felt a mild shock go through his systems, leaving his frame feeling tingly and strange. So that's what the cable was for. It didn't exactly _hurt_, but he had a feeling the voltage would be soon cranked up much higher, to a level of pain, rather than just feeling mild discomfort.

"I suppose we'll have to see later, after I remove it. Perhaps it stores information."

Where the frag was Laserbeak at?

"So, another query; why aren't you speaking to me in your voice? Wheeljack and Bulkhead mentioned that after dragging your sorry aft in here. You were completely silent, even as they gave you a thorough beating."

Yes. His frame was still aching from that experience. His chronometer was damaged, due to the trauma he received to his blasted visor. He hated the word 'damaged', especially if it pertained to _his_ condition. He was superior. He was perfect.

_No._ He allowed Lord Megatron to perish at the hands of that yellow scout. He allowed Knock Out to betray the Decepticon cause. He allowed Starscream and Shockwave to run off like the frightened cowards they were. And he allowed Megatron to sink to the bottom of an ocean.

He allowed Megatron to be conquered.

Frag it. Frag everything. He wasn't going to let these Autobots break him. He was Soundwave. Soundwave was incapable of breaking. The only thing that could defeat him was death. They could destroy his frame. Destroy his image. Destroy everything, and still, he would not give up. He wouldn't speak.

"Perhaps your precious drone would change your mind, Wave."

That made him snap back to the present. The Autobot was grinning sadistically. Much like Airachnid. It was disturbing. Like a mix of Airachnid and Knock Out…wonderful. The image of a hybrid of those two was now firmly stuck to his processor. Why did his mind keep wandering off? Laserbeak was the priority here.

"It's in the back room, if you must know," the Autobot said in a matter-of-fact tone, gesturing behind with his thumb, "We didn't want to risk it contacting your beloved crew. Plus the fact that pulling it off your chassis was quite a hard task and it _is_ a bit torn up now."

_What_.

_They touched Laserbeak._

_They imprisoned Laserbeak._

_They. Hurt. Laserbeak._

From the outside, Soundwave appeared indifferent. He was unmoving, silent. As if saying, 'Do what you want. I don't give a piece of slag.' because, of course, he was Soundwave. Soundwave was emotionless.

No. He was not.

But he didn't move. Didn't play back a recording. Just stared. Because they could not break him. They could not get him to speak this time. Last time, he had been weak. It was not happening again. It was never happening again.

"Well, since you don't need your drone anymore, I can melt it down and use it for spare parts. Thank you for your contribution to the Autobot cause. I'll be back shortly."

The slim mech watched the medic turn, and saunter off with an ominous chuckle, a door opening, and closing. He started to pull at the restraints. His subroutines were shut down, disabling the use of his feelers. And apparently, brute force did nothing against stasis cuffs. Go figure.

Soundwave started glancing around, for anything. Computers, blinking lights, a vast array of medical equipment lain out on a tray, along with the corpse of that green Autobot.

Green. It was not _yellow_. It was green. So he hadn't avenged Megatron. Because these weren't his Autobots. These were different Autobots…Decepticon Autobots..._Decepticons_…

The medic was talking about his 'beloved' crewmates. As if he'd changed, and could actually stand them. Asking about his sudden urge to murder the scout. Said the purple was nicer. Wait…so that meant…

This was a bad dream. That was what that meant. Soundwave shook his helm, partially telling himself 'No' and making an attempt at dislodging the cable that was hooked up to his neural net. This was a nightmare. One horrific nightmare. Decepticons were Decepticons, and they could never be anything else. Decepticons did not change. Decepticons were traitors. Decepticons were superior.

_Decepticons would always prevail._

No. They wouldn't. Only Soundwave. _Only Soundwave…_

He swore to Primus, when he got free, he was wreaking havoc on these Autobots for even daring to touch Laserbeak. They could attack _him_, fine, but Laserbeak…_No._ Nobody apart from him touched Laserbeak. He'd suffered the loss of the other two already. It was _not_ happening with Laserbeak. And if it _did_ happen with Laserbeak…

No. No, no, no, no. He was avoiding that thought. Yes. Because she wasn't going to die. He wasn't going to lose her.

What if he did?

Soundwave found his hands were clenched. He wanted desperately to break something, wreck something. Indescribable rage was rising up in his systems. He was not thinking like that. The Autobots wouldn't dare. They wouldn't dare to offline Laserbeak.

…But what if?

_Kill. Them. All._

Then pain shot through his spark. As if it had been punctured. Soundwave froze, trying not to writhe around on the berth in pain. It was familiar. This particular sensation had happened before. In Kaon. After a gladiator got angry. In an alleyway, caught off-guard. They'd tried to protect him. They'd tried. And they'd failed miserably. Two small figures, in a pool of Energon, bathed in the glow of a half-lit streetlight.

Now his spark was pulsing. Pulsing with agony. Another one, connected to his, that was. And then, emptiness. Soundwave tried to establish contact. He couldn't. The link was severed. He was alone. _He was alone. _He was numb. He couldn't feel. His servos were clenched, his frame quivering ever so slightly.

She was gone.

_And they would pay._

* * *

**_Like it? Hate it? Review!_**

**_Whoa, Autobots, you screwed up bad. _**


	4. New Acquaintance

_He'd failed in his duty as a Decepticon._

Soundwave was silent and motionless. He could just listen and feel as his visor was being tugged, pulled at. The Autobot had cranked his pain receptors to the highest they would go, and hooked him up to several terminals to prevent forced power-down. It was both a good thing and a bad thing that his system was more secure than most Cybertronians. Even the medical overrides the Autobot had used weren't working to release his visor.

Soundwave flinched, as a particularly sore and sensitive spot was prodded with a sharp tool. The first hour or so had been the worst, but the pain had mostly died down into complete numbness. Which was good, he supposed, considering that the medic wasn't planning on stopping anytime soon.

But when he got free…

Soundwave had tried, and was still trying, to force a system shutdown. It had worked last time. But these Autobots were prepared. They knew the tricks some captives pulled. It had probably happened before. And the medic seemed very determined to rip his visor off while he was still awake. _Rude._

His mind wandered to his former crewmates, amidst the agony he was experiencing. Sort of floating in his thoughts. It was strange. He simply didn't care anymore. Oh, if he got free, then he would care, very much, but now, cuffed to a berth with no hope…

Had Shockwave paired up with Starscream? Had Knock Out joined the Autobots? What had happened to Predaking? _Everything had gone so wrong._ How had he ended up in this situation, with insane Autobots? _Spacebridge malfunction_. _They were already massively unstable. Not much would set off an explosion. _

But these Autobots didn't know. They didn't know where he came from. They assumed that he was…whatever the Decepticon equivalent was in this world. Soundwave didn't want to think about that. It was disgraceful. If the Autobots were basically Decepticons, then the Decepticons—

Scrap. He hated the direction his mind kept taking him. A version of him that wasn't him? Nightmare fuel. Like those human movies Knock Out watched. Horrific, and unbelievable. Terrifying. So _wrong_. Like the existence of that little yellow scout.

Little yellow scout…

_Little yellow scout._

He couldn't let that little yellow scout get away unpunished. He wasn't going to. Nobody killed Lord Megatron and got away with it unscathed. He was Soundwave. It was his duty to avenge his master. Even if it killed him.

There was a curse from the medic, and he stood up, glaring fixedly at a slightly bent tool. The Autobot turned, and stalked towards the door, muttering, "Earth resources are so fragging _useless_."

When the door closed, and Soundwave was left in silence, the slender mech started to pull at his bonds again. Slag. If only he could use his feelers. If only…_if only_….he knew he would be saying that a lot. Well, until he offlined, at least. Which was probably going to be soon, if the Autobots kept this up. Soundwave could only hope that he did, as access to his databanks and stores of information would be permanently denied.

If only he'd flown off when he had the opportunity. But then what would have happened? Where would he have gone? Where was he going to go if he escaped? Was he going to end up like Starscream, and become some sort of loner? He sure as Pit wasn't going to do any of that negotiation slag Starscream had done…not that these Autobots would be up to it, anyhow.

And there was no guarantee that he wasn't going to die here. His vision was swimming, and his audials could faintly detect the whirs and beeps of the terminals.

And the sound of the door sliding open. Soundwave offlined his optical sensors. He would not look at the medic. He was not going to strain his sight with that worthless scrapheap.

"Well, well, _well_, who do we have here?"

What. The. _Frag._

"A _Decepticon_? How did they catch you?"

It wasn't Airachnid. But it had her tone, her sly, I'm-completely-in-control-and-you-can't-stop-me tone. Soundwave onlined his vision, adjusting to the lighting, and found himself staring into a pair of pink optics, in front of his visor. Airachnid optics. Airachnid. _Airachnid._

Airachnid was gone. He'd sent her away through a spacebridge. She was gone. And this was just an Autobot that eerily resembled her. Resembled her way too much.

"So, Soundwave, is it?" the Autobot tapped on his visor, balancing on the edge of the berth while leaning over him, "You looked _wrecked_."

It was the blue femme. Well, not blue anymore. More of a reddish color, with black in place of the pink. Her optics were the same color as Airachnid's. Horrible, horrible, horrible.

Oh, how he hated spiders. Even thought _this_ wasn't a spider. He didn't see any extra legs, at least. Maybe she had two heads instead. One that popped out in defense when attacked. Wouldn't that be interesting?

"Are you ignoring me, Wavey?" she cooed, running her fingers along the rim of his visor, earning a nearly nonexistent flinch from the mech, "You haven't said a word."

And he wasn't planning on it. They could _not_ make him speak. They could _not_ break him.

"I'll take that as an incentive that you won't tattle. After all, I'm not supposed to be here."

She moved, leaping off the berth, and peering in interest at the monitor beside the berth. Soundwave turned his visor, feeling uneasy, mostly about her resemblance to Airachnid.

"Trying to hack your systems, hmm? Won't get far with that," there was a metal clang as she kicked the console, "Using _this_ slag."

The femme's gaze drifted back to the Decepticon, "And how did you manage to get captured anyway? Last I heard you were moping about the fact that your blasted cat was injured. Good riddance to the beast."

**_Query: Cat?_**

"Plus the fact that you Decepticons cleared off to the upper atmosphere after disabling outward groundbridge signals. I had no idea that you were still wandering around down here."

Yes. This was one Pit of a nightmare. Wonderful. _Wonder-fragging-ful_. Well, it also pointed to the fact that apparently this universes' Decepticons had a lot more sense…and Soundwave disliked that fact very, _very_ much.

Imagine if Megatron had gone to the bother of shielding the Nemesis. _He wouldn't be dead because the blasted Autobots wouldn't have bridged there in the first place._

But this place was wrong. These Autobots were wrong. Everything was wrong. And Laserbeak was gone.

"Helloooo? Can you hear me?"

No. He could not. And he didn't want to.

"I could always let you free, you know. With my current position of neutral. Perhaps you Decepticons would take me in…?"

What a laugh. He didn't have any Decepticons left. And even if he did, he was most certainly not allowing anyone that even vaguely resembled Airachnid near them. First Breakdown, and then the Terrorcon version of Silas Knock Out had ever so helpfully created with Starscream's assistance. They'd lost the Insecticons, which was a huge blow, considering that half the Eradicons were gone as well. Airachnid was a walking slag-heap of trouble.

"Are you deaf?"

And this was just a cheap knockoff. Nothing to be worried about. Autobots were harmless. Well._ Moderately. _Autobot medics were a little bit harmful. Just a little tiny bit.

"Now, what condition did you come in here, and what has Ratchet already done to you?"

Alright, perhaps slightly more harmful, considering that he'd been beaten to slag by those two Wreckers, and then more or less tortured by this insane doctor. Still. Not as bad as Kaon. Nothing was as bad as Kaon. Even if it hadn't been his energon shed that day.

"All you Decepticons are the same. You either lie there without saying a word or preach your entire code to us. Gets old, I tell you. Are you going to accept my terms or not?"

Soundwave hadn't heard her terms. But he knew that if he got loose, he was tearing the nearest Autobot apart in less than five nanokliks. Autobots were worthless. Autobots got Lord Megatron killed. They got Skyquake killed. They downed the Nemesis. _They ruined everything._

"Are you even listening?"

Hurting. Hurting so much he couldn't even stop his thoughts from wandering anymore. He turned his visor to the red femme, and played back her voice, _"—listening—_"

Why? Why would he be listening? What was the point of listening? He was a Decepticon. She was an Autobot. Autobots didn't just help out anyone for free. Well, they were decidedly more accepting that Decepticons, but…

But…_but_…

Primus. Everything seemed so screwed up he wasn't sure which faction would be more accepting. Because these Autobots were…well, mildly insane would be understating it. Perhaps completely off their rockers would suffice.

There were suddenly heavy pede-steps outside the door, and he watched the femme's optics widen, and then her small frame shoot towards another door, the back room, apparently.

"Might release you, might not. Depends." she vented hurriedly, and the door closed with a barely audible click as the other one opened. Soundwave turned his visor, flinching visibly as the medic walked in, several more shiny instruments in his servos. He grinned, heading over to a table, dropping them onto a sterile tray with a clatter, "We're going to have some fun, Wave. A _lot_ of fun."

Soundwave uncomfortably tried to shift, stasis cuffs still holding him down. He was still slightly out of it, but conscious enough to get the implied meaning of the Autobot's words. He went motionless on the medberth, unable to tear his visor away from the medic's back as he sorted through various implements. The emptiness ached. The loneliness hurt. It was like the first time, but worse. He was helpless, vulnerable, and unable to defend himself, strapped down to a berth. At least, the first time he'd been able to hold their broken little bodies, as Energon ran onto the sidewalk. He couldn't now. He didn't even know what they'd done with her chassis.

"Ah, I wasn't gone too long, was I?" the medic chuckled, coming over with a glint in his optics, "You didn't get bored with my absence, did you? You _did_? Oh, dear. Well, we're going to have some fun now. Get rid of that boredom."

Soundwave turned his helm away, expecting the Autobot to reach for his visor. Instead, he felt a hand on his midsection, prodding, poking, "Now, your drives. You are no normal Cybertronian. Where do you think they might be?"

His spark was spinning wildly in its chamber, a feeling of illness rising in his systems. The other Autobots had threatened to cut him open. This one was going through with it, while he was still awake, and online.

He felt a tingling sensation as the medic ran a scanner over his frame, highlighting his inner workings.

"Incredible." Soundwave heard the Autobot murmur to himself, "Terabytes of space. I wasn't joking when I said you were different."

He heard the whir of a tool activating, heat radiating from it, and a shudder ran down his spinal strut. He wanted desperately to shut himself down, deny access to any information. Not that it would be of any help to these Autobots, it seemed, considering that his spacebridge routers were fried, and this world…was just so screwed up...

Searing agony shot through his frame, causing him to tense up, as his helm quickly snapped back, stared helplessly at the medic, carefully drawing a heated medical tool down through the metal, and biolights of his midsection. He couldn't even offline his optical sensors at this point. Just stare in morbid fascination. Strange. He thought there'd be more Energon. And they were going to kill him. He was going to die at the Autobots' hands, but not in the way he had expected.

_Incredible indeed._


	5. Shifting

Soundwave miserably twitched a finger, contemplating on whether to try and get up, or stay lying in a sticky puddle of his own Energon.

He stared at the dark wall, and at the surveillance camera in the corner. He imagined that they were frustrated by his lack of response. No noise, no struggle. It made him feel satisfied. They could hurt him all they wanted. They could kill him. He didn't care. Didn't mind in the slightest bit. He had nothing to live for, even.

They'd force-fed him low grade energon through a tube to his tanks (not that he knew why they even bothered) and then left him to his own devices in this dark room after however many days of mutilation. He honestly didn't even know anymore. His chronometer was broken, just like everything else.

He raised his hand as much as he could, staring at the faint blue lines that the Autobot medic had burned into his arm. Stress relief, the doctor had claimed. Apparently stabbing at his chassis wasn't good enough. He'd always disapproved of Knock Out's method of stress relief. The Decepticons _needed_ Vehicons, and he just chopped them all up. A waste, really. Should have spent it chopping up Autobots instead. At least that would have been helpful. He and Starscream were, more or less, two children that had managed to weasel their way into the Decepticon ranks, and screw everything up.

The door swung open, revealing the blue wrecker, who stepped in, and roughly hoisted the slim mech up, "C'mon, you piece of junk."

He started to drag Soundwave towards the door before there was a clang, and a sharp bark, "Pick him up! We don't want to mar the floors!"

Soundwave felt several twinges of pain in his midsection as he was hefted up, with his helm resting against the Autobot's shoulder, as the bot grumbled. He angled his helm, slightly curious to see who it was. Oh. The one with the illogically high shoulders. He glanced down. Two fully functional hands. Maybe they didn't have a Predacon in this world. Hopefully they didn't.

"He's lighter than 'Cee." The wrecker muttered, as he started to trudge down the corridor after his superior. Soundwave wondered where they were going. A different way, this time. These Autobots had a bigger base than the normal ones. Naturally. They had Decepticon minds. Decepticons needed space.

He disliked the contact he was having with the Autobot, but couldn't be bothered to struggle. Too exhausted, too painful, and really, he didn't even care all that much.

The slim mech was abruptly thrown onto the concrete floor—a human structure, it seemed—and didn't move. He stared up at the ceiling, hearing the incoherent sounds of speech. His audials had suffered from repeated attempts at trying to release his visor. The medic used brute force, not his processor.

And then, there was a hand, clenching down painfully on his arm, as he was pulled up again. Everything was a haze, until he felt the familiar sensation of passing through a groundbridge. There was heat on his backstruts, heat from the sun, and then he was tossed down again, onto a pile of metal, with a slight crash.

"Have fun, 'Con." The Autobot growled, several moments before the groundbridge snapped closed.

Soundwave waited a minute or two, before pushing himself up. He found himself staring at a corpse of a blue Vehicon, frame marred, and partially melted. It dawned on him. He'd been thrown on the literal scrapheap. _Like a piece of slag._

Rolling off the body, he found himself looking into the sky, fading into orange, half-wondering what Starscream was doing at this moment. He felt a twinge of longing. Good Primus. Was he missing _Starscream_? Was he going _insane_, to the point of missing _that_ traitorous piece of slag? Those Autobots must have fried some important circuits in his processor. He didn't miss _anyone_, much less _Starscream_.

Soundwave sat, propping himself up on his arm, and looked down at the dead Vehicon. Its frame was warm from being left out in the sun all day, and he wearily moved forward, quite slowly, and curled up next to it, hugging its left arm to his chestplates. The familiar heat warmed his spark, the pain ebbing away the tiniest bit. It reminded him of Laserbeak. It felt nice.

Soundwave quivered, arms folded over the corpse. He didn't give two scraps of its origin, and instead just went still. He'd given up. Nothing to live for. No Megatron, no Laserbeak, no Decepticons. Maybe the little yellow scout, but he couldn't get back. The little yellow scout would probably just defy death again, and stab _him_ in the spark this time. Soundwave didn't even entertain the thought.

The warmth of the chassis soon faded, as the sun went behind dark clouds, and started to set. And Soundwave didn't have the spark to let go.

* * *

Steps. He heard steps, crunching on leaves. Pieces of metal. Several clangs, here and there.

Soundwave tiredly shook himself awake. It was dark and drizzling a little. He shivered, still hugging the Vehicon's limb to his chestplates. Someone was here. Who was it? Why couldn't he die in peace, for Primus' sake?

"A Decepticon? Didn't expect to find _you_ here. You're the comms officer, right?"

Oh, _wonderful_. It had to be this particular one. The rude one that snatched the phase-shifter out of Megatron's hand, and then jumped off the Nemesis. Also an idiot. Yes. He hated this one too. Almost as much as the little yellow scout.

"They screwed you up bad, didn't they? How'd they catch you anyway? You've got these weird arm…wing thingies to fly with."

There was a kick to his back. Soundwave flinched, more in surprise at the sudden contact than the pain. Weird arm-wing thingies? Really? _Rude._

"Energon everywhere. You're a walking glowstick. Well, you already were. What happened to your colors? Get tired of the purple? I agree, that was ugly. You look kinda…I dunno, more dangerous. Familiar, too."

Even this one was rude. Soundwave released the Vehicon, pushing himself onto his back. He stared up at the Autobot, who glared back with glowing yellow optics, "What's up with your face? It's all—like a screen and slag. Except broken."

The Autobot's frame was a solid shade of very dark purple, which immediately reminded Soundwave of the Vehicons, not the blue one he'd passed out on. Just solid color, no trim, no numbers, or racing stripes, not even an insignia where there should have been one. Scuffs and dents decorated the chipped paint. Yellow optics glowed menacingly.

"I didn't know Decepticons recharged holding their dead comrades." The Autobot scoffed, "That's kinda creepy. And obsessive. I know you guys are sympathetic about dead buddies and stuff, _but really…_?"

Soundwave wasn't listening. He was contemplating on whether to ignore the Autobot, and continue on dying, or just kill him. If he even had the strength.

_Aided in Lord Megatron's demise._

Rage suddenly surged through the slender mech, and all wounds and exhaustion were forgotten, as he grabbed the Autobot's leg, and threw him over. The bot landed on his chestplates, with a muffled "Ow!" and started to push himself up, before Soundwave had gotten up, and pinned him down. The slim mech ignored the sharp bursts of pain, radiating across his frame, and pressed his pede hard onto the Autobot's back.

He hated Autobots. He hated Decepticons. He hated them all. And if he couldn't have the little yellow scout, then he'd take as many beings as required to fill in his place. They'd all allowed Lord Megatron to perish. And not one had done a single thing to avenge him.

"Get off, 'Con!" the Autobot spat, faceplates pressed into the ground, as he kicked his legs, "I'll find your loved ones and decimate them! I'll find your blasted cat and rip it in half! And your bird! Both of them!"

And then, almost without warning, though Soundwave should have expected it, the Autobot twisted around, giving the slimmer mech a hard kick in his midsection. The Decepticon felt nothing, fury still numbing his senses, as he was thrown down. There was the clicking of gears, the shifting of plating, and then a howl of rage, one that was far too familiar.

A clawed servo was planted on his chestplates, pressing down, digging into his plating, a low, gravelly voice snarling into his audials, "I cannot describe the hatred I feel for your kind, Decepticon!"

Soundwave's optical sensors confusedly flicked over his opponent's face. Well, mandibles. Hadn't there been an Autobot there several moments ago? This was a fragging Insecticon, not an Autobot. Was he hallucinating?

Claws raked across his visor, pulling at it, scraping across the surface, adding to the damage it had already received, "Take this blasted thing off so I can see your face!"

Yes. He recognized that voice. But if the Autobots and Decepticons were supposed to be opposite in this world, then wouldn't Makeshift be nice…?

"TAKE IT OFF!"

Apparently not.

"Wait…a moment…"

The weight was lifted off his chassis, and Makeshift pulled Soundwave up, clenching on his backstruts and holding him above the ground with one servo, mandibles clicking in confusion, "Soundwave?"

The Communications Officer stared in confusion at the larger mech, visor tilted sideways slightly. This was a dream. A nightmare. Or maybe he was dead. Something like that.

"Real Soundwave?" the Insecticon poked his chestplates with a claw, holding him in the air with a single servo, "Not fake Soundwave? Are you real?"

The slim mech flinched, dizzily playing back a recording of Megatron, "_Soundwave._"

"Are you—fraggit—was that Lord Megatron? _Real _Megatron? Not the fake Megatron? Proper Warlord Megatron?"

Was this Makeshift? Was this the real Makeshift, not a hallucination? How? Makeshift was dead. So very dead. Soundwave sent a ping across, to see if they were operating on the same frequency anyway.

**_Query: Details on 777: Demise?_**

The Insecticon's yellow optical band dimmed a little, taking his question. And then brightened up, moving closer to his visor.

"The Autobots thought they were intelligent, activating a grenade I was in contact with. The groundbridge energy I'd just passed through apparently did something. Ended up here, in this nightmare."

Soundwave wanted to draw back, shake Makeshift's claws off. The mech was staring at him eerily, mandibles clicking, venting harshly.

"And you fragging abandoned me. You saw the grenade, and left me. Both you and Starscream."

His hold on the mech's backstruts tightened. Soundwave stiffened, his vision starting to go hazy. He wasn't sure how much more of this abuse he could handle.

"Give me one good reason as to why you shouldn't perish right now." Makeshift snarled, slamming him onto the ground, leaning over his smaller frame, "One good reason, and perhaps I won't drag out your death. I can make it _quick_."

Soundwave wasn't speaking. He refused. But a recording could suffice.

"_Soundwave superior._"

There was silence, and then a harsh, grating laugh emitting from the Shifter's vocalizer, "_Soundwave_ superior?! That's a laugh! Where did you come up with that one? The correct version is _Makeshift_ superior! I am superior!"

He stared down at the smaller Decepticon, and Soundwave moved—or tried to, as the Shifter pressed down harder. He was getting uncomfortable with where this was going. Probably end up with him in a big mess of energon, wires, and broken plating. He would fit in perfectly with this wonderful Autobot scrapheap. New addition: biolights.

"I'm going to enjoy tearing your spark out. And downloading your frame-type, too. It's rare, you know. Not many like you. I've waited forever to get a frame-type with feelers. Ripping bots apart with them. Hear they're useful for downloading data too. Remember that time? On the Nemesis? You transferred all those files using one of your feelers? Useful indeed." there was a low, grating chuckle of amusement.

Makeshift was different. Makeshift was wrong. Makeshift was fragging _insane_. And coming from an Insecticon's chassis made it so much worse. He preferred the Autobot. At least the Autobot matched his size better. Wasn't as intimidating. But that's why Makeshift was an Insecticon right now. He was being intimidating, intent on scaring Soundwave. Frightening him. And Soundwave couldn't really say he was. Uncomfortable, yes, but after what the Autobots had done to him. There wasn't anything left to be afraid of.

"But first—I want to see your faceplates. See the fear in your optics. Come on." Claws wedged behind the rim, "Before I tear it off."

Soundwave was thankful that he'd had the intelligence to disconnect his neural network remotely from the visor within the first day of being captured, seeing as it was so damaged. Now it was just functioning as a face-covering. Nothing more. He flinched when Makeshift pulled, "I will not command you a second time. Show me your face, Decepticon."

No. He wasn't. He was staying true to his vow. The Surveillance Chief didn't even move when the mech tugged harder. He was done. Done with everything. Makeshift could kill him, and he wouldn't care one bit. Yes. Kill him. Makeshift would give him peace at last. Peace through fury. Peace through chaos. Peace through his tyranny.

There was a snarl, and sparks flew as the Insecticon tore the visor away, crushing it in his claws, throwing it to the ground to join the rest of the slag. He curiously leaned closer to Soundwave, clicking his mandibles, ignoring the smaller mech's weak protests as he tried to push Makeshift's claw off, "Primus, you're as terrifying as the rest of us, aren't you?"

Soundwave stared back, crimson optics dim as he blearily watched him raise his other servo, and run a claw down his face, drawing a thin line of energon, "Oh, look. Another scar to join the mass. You're a big mess under your mask, aren't you?"

There was the dissatisfied clicking of mandibles, "You don't look frightened. You should be quivering in your plating right now."

Quivering? He was too tired. Too exhausted to do anything but stare wearily, and hope that Makeshift would end his torment sooner, rather than later. He shifted his optics over the other's face, before shuttering them. Just hurry up, dolt. Kill him. Draw it out, make it quick, he didn't care how long it took. Just extinguish his spark, and be done with it.

"You're no fun. I like to have fun with my victims, and you're just lying there, all silent, and serious-like. I should leave you to your misery. You're going to run out of Energon sooner or later."

Wonderful. Pit-fragging-wonder-slagging-ful. Everyone was going to do this, weren't they? First the Autobots allowed their precious humans to stick him in the Shadowzone, and his allies didn't make any move to discover what had happened. Then the crazy Autobots screwed him up and threw him on the scrapheap, where Makeshift was now refusing to kill him, and intent on leaving him to suffer.

_It's the most wonderful time._

Soundwave ignored the blathering the Shifter was now doing, and went to his music files. A human holiday song, as he remembered. A happy one. He wanted to listen to it again.

_It's the most wonderful time of the year._

_With the kids jingle-belling,_

_And everyone telling you, "Be of good cheer"_

_It's the most wonderful time of the year._

Makeshift let out a hiss, and clawed him across his faceplates, narrowing missing his optics, Energon now covering the numerous scars on his dark, grey face, "ANSWER ME!"

_It's the hap - happiest season of all._

_With those holiday greetings and gay happy meetings,_

_When friends come to call,_

_It's the hap - happiest season of all._

The Shifter leapt back, dragging Soundwave up, and threw him to the ground again, planting a clawed pede on his chestplates, "I WILL MAKE YOU FEEL AGONY!"

_There'll be parties for hosting,_

_Marshmallows for toasting,_

_And caroling out in the snow._

He gave the slim mech a hard kick, enough to make him stiffen up, and protectively cover his face with his arms.

_There'll be scary ghost stories,_

_And tales of the glories of,_

_Christmases long, long ago._

Makeshift let out a growl, towering over him threateningly, "I will hurt you in ways you cannot imagine, Decepticon."

_It's the most wonderful time of the year._

_There'll be much mistltoeing,_

_And hearts will be glowing,_

_When loved ones are near._

The Shifter hauled him up by his backstruts, bringing him close and hissing, "I will make you pay for abandoning me. I will make you suffer Starscream's punishment as well. You will pay for all of their crimes. You, Megatron's most loyal, will be reduced to crying, sobbing mess by the time my wrath has been expended."

He pushed down too hard on his midsection. Soundwave's fans whirred, his optics brightening momentarily as he tried to jumpstart his system. They dimmed again, his efforts failing, the pain being too much for him to handle. Everything faded into darkness, as Makeshift let out a howl of rage, yellow optical band burning into Soundwave's sight. And then sound lingered, for only a moment.

_It's the most wonderful time of the year._


	6. Duplicate

**_Hello. I'm back! I haven't forgotten about this story, not at all!_**

**_Enjoy!_**

* * *

Soundwave found himself staring at the glowing blue lines in the ceiling, crisscrossing, over one another, connected in the most intricate patterns. His vision was, more or less, impaired, fuzzy, and out of focus. Somewhere in his mind, he was conscious of music playing. But for now, the ceiling captivated his attention, diverting it from the slight twinges of pain as he moved his leg unconsciously. He didn't pay it any mind.

He disliked this song. It depressed him. But he couldn't find the will to turn it off. He wasn't aware of his location, of why the frag Makeshift hadn't killed him, like he'd promised. Where was Makeshift? Had the slagger gone off to wreak havoc on the world? Good. This world was bad. It was wrong. Soundwave hated it.

"Wake up! I see you staring at the ceiling!"

Someone jabbed him forcefully between the optics. What? Where was his visor? Where was here?

"Come on, I can see that you're awake. Look at me. I've been trying to get you up for hours."

Eons of having his face covered, and then to have the unused sensors and nerves touched like that, as well as his visor functions being gone. He flinched. It felt uncomfortable.

"Am I going to have to stab you with an implement to get you to concentrate?"

He could barely distinguish red optics hovering over him, his vision damaged, and blurry. No, pink. Pink. Airachnid. No, no, no, Airachnid's cheap Autobot knockoff. Yes. He was now apparently residing somewhere with an Autobot as company. And not the nice ones, no. This was one of the ones that had a tendency to inflict damage upon his frame, and laugh at his misery.

Soundwave shuttered his optics tiredly. He was blearily aware of a scoff, "Not even an acknowledgement? Just going to go back to sleep? Well, I don't blame you. You look worse than the first time I saw you, _clone_."

He was his own unique, _superior_ individual.

"Well, my scientific side first assumed that after it became obvious how blatantly different you are, and the fact you tore Bumbleidiot apart—but then I overheard that little conversation you had with Nutjob out there. And I would probably have known if my former idiotic teammates had done any sort of major experimentation and whatnot, so I..."

Oh, wonderful. He shut off the echoes of music reverberating within his processor, and moved his helm, optics still closed. Wasn't speaking. Wasn't looking. An error display kept popping up on his HUD but he tried to ignore it. Too many injuries. It was insignificant.

"So, how did you end up here? Oh, forgot. You won't tell me."

A slight tingle of satisfaction ran down his backstruts.

"So I'll make assumptions. Groundbridge disaster? Spacebridge disaster?" there was a tap on one of his thin arms, which he didn't respond to, "Took a look inside here. The routers are fried, and useless. You're lucky Ratchet didn't get any _ideas_. Usually he detaches his victims' arms or legs and replaces them with hooks and whatnot. Guess he couldn't be bothered, with your weird anatomy."

_Rude._ His anatomy wasn't weird. It was upgraded, and _superior_, thank you very much.

"Suppose that's my job, now. Though, I'll have to wait until you've healed. Much more fun that way, to practice on a healthy mech."

Oh, scrap. So how long was he going to be stuck here? The damage he had obtained was serious, and this femme didn't appear to be a medical expert. Just a science expert. Oh, _science_…wonderful Shockwave and his science idea that brought the little yellow scout back to life to kill Megatron. Soundwave couldn't have hated science more. Plus the fact that Starscream had formerly been a scientist. All the more reason to dislike it.

Feeling another sharp tap on his scarred faceplates, his optic snapped open, narrowing, and glaring. He bared his sharp denta, growling, along with several bursts of static. The confusion that flashed across his face made the Autobot grin, "Took the time to mess around with you. Your voicebox is rusty from disuse, you know. I had to clean it off a little."

Soundwave blinked, his optics dimming in realization. Blasted femme had tampered with his insides.

"Did some procedures while you were out of it. Didn't hurt you, just rearranged some things." the femme waved her hand absently-mindedly, "Simple, really. I'm a scientist. It's what I do. Thank the 'Cons for the equipment. Pilfered it after sneaking aboard. That is, before they had the wonderfully bright idea of moving that ruined my fragging life."

Soundwave could barely even focus on her now, his thoughts running rampant.

"But I got quite a few things off of them for free. You can thank stolen painkillers for your lack of agony at the moment. I don't want you tearing _me_ apart as well."

Would explain why he wasn't really concerned about this situation right now, and feeling slightly hazy as he stared up, optics half-closed, his processor whirring with thoughts. When they'd captured him—the _real_ Autobots—they had gotten a little impatient—but not to this extent. And where did Makeshift go wrong? What had happened to him? Abandonment issues? He had been, more or less, loyal to the cause…more or less, according to his surveillance...

"Come to think about it, you would make an excellent bargaining chip. I'd have to be very careful, though. Decepticons can be quite tricky at times. I'd have to have a little talk first. And then, being the paranoid slaggers they are—"

Primus. Could she not be quiet?

"I'm not _really_ pressed for Energon, but some more tools would be nice. I'd like to take you apart in the most delicate, careful way possible."

He didn't want to hear it.

"But, for now, you should probably rest." Her voice was soft, cooing in his audials. Blasted Autobots. He flinched.

"Aw, don't do that. I didn't even touch you. But, I must say. It is nice to see a new bot lying on my lab table after all these years. Smokescreen died too quickly. It was a waste, really. And then Breakdown. Silly mech didn't even struggle. He just _stared_.

"But then—bargaining chip or test subject? I should probably give them a call now. It's raining. They don't like to fly in the rain. Should all be up there, roosting like the giant chickens they are. Hehe!"

His mind was becoming clearer. He kept his optics shuttered, and inconspicuously moved his left arm. He wasn't restrained. Thank Primus. She was simply relying on whatever she'd given him to keep him down.

"Are you asleep?"

* * *

Arcee squinted down at the bot, his armor scuffed and broken. At least she'd managed to clean off all the dirt and Energon. Somewhat presentable, to say in the least, with the wonderful job Ratchet and that psycho had done out there. She poked him, receiving no response, and checked the monitor, hooked up to his vital necessities. He appeared to be quite out of it, and she wasn't eager to waste more sedatives on him. Couldn't trust Decepticons either way, though. She gave the mech a final hard jab in the side, where Ratchet had performed his questionable procedure_, _and seeing no reaction whatsoever, made a decision and sauntered to the console.

Arcee checked her signal, making sure that it was compressed and untraceable, the one she usually used, and glanced back at the motionless mech before going to her contacts. Why they hadn't changed their frequency yet, she didn't know.

The femme tapped in the codes on the large console, and leaned back, waiting for a response. There was quiet in the room, with perhaps the small whirs of the computer in front of her, and the complete and utter silence coming from her captive. _Captive._ Arcee loved that word. It meant that she was in control for once, control of another being's life. The entire reason she'd left the blasted Autobots in the first place.

**_Connection timed out._**

"They have been out of touch for quite a while now," she mused, tapping her chin plating thoughtfully. But then again, Decepticon technology was terrible.

And before she knew what was happening, she was slammed down onto the console, a single servo clenching the back of her helm. Arcee let out a hiss, trying to push herself up, "Didn't know you had it in you, 'Con. Oh, pardon me. You're a worthless _duplicate_." she spat.

Somewhere in her mind, she knew she should have expected this. But what did she care? It was all fun and games.

_"__Location,"_ the Decepticon growled, his voice low and hoarse, _"Location: Coordinates."_

Or maybe not.

"I dunno. I don't keep tabs on that sort of thing." Arcee muttered, shivers running down her backstruts. Maybe this hadn't been a good idea. Running seemed like an acceptable preposition at this point. Any other Decepticon would just be out. This one seemed to have some specific intention, and it wanted information. _Creepy as Pit._

_"__Answer: __**Incorrect.**__"_

"Oh, excuse you!"

The grip on her helm grew tighter, **_"Location."_**

"Nemesis! Fallen Decepticon ship! I dunno the coordinates!"

His grip loosened slightly, and Arcee's vents hitched, as her attempts at struggling became stronger. What the actual frag was wrong with this guy?

"_Nemesis: Fallen?_"

"Uh-huh! Been here for eons!"

"_Harbinger?_"

"Harbinger? The other ship? They're using that one."

Soundwave paused for a quick moment, flicking through his databanks. Well, Starscream had used the Harbinger for his cloning needs…it had apparently crashed on Earth. No, that was his world. This one was reversed, a mirror version. This would take some getting used to.

His attention was averted back to the Autobot, trying to push herself up. He pressed her down again, "_Decepticons: Location._"

"I don't know! Space? We scared 'em off pretty badly! Do you mind letting me go now?"

"_Soundwave: Does not take orders._"

"Soundwave this, Soundwave that. Can't you speak properly? Or let me go. One or the other."

"_Silence, Autobot._"

"Oh, I'll say whatever I damn well ple—"

Arcee was silenced by a blow to her helm, stunned into momentary silence. Alarm bells went off in her processor.

"_Soundwave: Demands location._"

"Arcee doesn't know what you mean!" she spat back, stilling in her movements, "Seriously! Lay the frag off!"

"_Soundwave: Requires location. Precise coordinates._"

"I'm tellin' you! I. Don't. Fragging. Know."

There was a moment of silence, and then a low growl, "_Autobot: Insignificant to Decepticon cause._"

"Haha, sorry, but you're _not_ a Decepticon."

She felt the mech's long, slim digits starting to pull at her neck cables, testing the durability. Arcee tried to push herself up, "Hey, hey, no need to do tha—I didn't mean it!"

She felt them coming away, ripped apart from each other, as the Decepticon began to tear at the sensitive wires and cables. Her pain receptors caught on, and that was motivation enough to get her to start thrashing about, "Stop! I'm sorry! I won't say it aga—ow! _Ow!_"

"_Soundwave: Does not accept apologies._"

"Wai—wait, wait, w—_nshh_—"

Her voice dissolved into static, her optics dimming, and then offlining, her expression frozen in a pleading, frightened look. Soundwave pulled his servo out of the mess of cables, wires and Energon sticking to his digits, watching as her helm detached, and rolled onto the floor with a clatter.

"_Soundwave: Superior._"

* * *

The ship was half-buried, and it was raining as the slim mech exited, his paint covered in new flecks of Energon, his wounds seeping the glowing blue substance. It started running down his plating in streams, or what was left of his plating, as the rain met his plating. Half of his upper armor was gone, as well as bits and pieces of his leg armor. His protoform bore both jagged, and cleanly cut injuries, staining the biolights blue. He probably looked quite the sight. And he didn't care. He was numb. His mind was clear, and empty. And that was a good thing.

The ship had been stripped clean already, the only few things being the Autobot's supplies, and a rather nice collection of spark-chambers. He would have to start a profession like that one day.

Red optics flitting over the forest around him, the mech started forward, his steps heavy and his frame swaying, but determination kept him going. He had to figure out something. He had to. He had to get back. He had to avenge Lord Megatron. And then maybe, maybe he could rust. He could simply sit down, and rust until his frame faded away.

It was early morning, from what he could detect. His chronometer showed that he had been in stasis for nearly three days. At least he was still alive. Half-Energized, uncaring of the sticky cyan clinging to his faceplates running down his blue plating. He didn't care. He couldn't bother to care anymore.

Soundwave's legs faltered. He stopped, putting out his arms to balance himself. No. No, no, no…

He slowly sank to his knees, and then collapsed down on his front. He couldn't. He simply couldn't do this. He didn't want to. He had never wanted it to go this badly. What had he done wrong? What had he done to deserve this?

Yes. That was right. He had allowed his Master to perish at the hands of the Autobots. He had simply allowed them to take the ship, to send him to that dimension. He wanted back in the Shadowzone. This was a dream. He would awaken in the Shadowzone, wouldn't he? This was just a dream. Just a horrible, painful dream. A dream he wanted out of. He wanted to be back. At least, in the Shadowzone, he had Laserbeak. He had some remnant of all the good things he had ever possessed. But he could not go back. Not until he woke up.

_Why, Primus? Why?_

* * *

Water was not really a common thing to come in contact with. Soundwave didn't mind it, of course. It was actually quite soothing, to go on flights while it was drizzling. Hundreds of photographs, he would take. He always enjoyed looking back on those later.

But today. Today was different. He had been planning on working through Amnesia with the lights off, but had detected something while loading it up. They probably wouldn't have wanted him to leave, not in the weather, or his current condition. But Soundwave wasn't one to be cautionary, or obedient. After all, he always came back uninjured, with new pictures, or videos to share.

But today. Today he had detected an Energon signal on the sensors. Not a normal one. Spilt Energon. He could tell the difference. And even if it was just an Autobot, he wanted to be sure. New, strange things appeared to be cropping up every day.

Ravage, he had left behind, to recover. His spark still ached for his injured symbiote, but the cybercat was getting better. At least, that is what he was told. Not what was relayed through their faint, distant bond that got weaker every passing moment.

Circling around the treetops, the ship jutted out from the ground at an angle. He felt a slight twinge of discomfort, disliking the memory of when it had fallen. That had been a painful day, indeed.

Going down lower, and then the shifting of plating, gears moving, he transformed, his violet paint earning several mud splatters. He glanced toward the ship, and then turned in a full circle, before locking onto the source of the signal. It was faint, as he carefully started to saunter around the trees, inquisitive optics bright. A dark form on the ground caught his attention, and he walked towards it, stopping several yards away. The arms were what caught his attention first, as well as the raspy intakes, chassis rising and falling. Decepticon insignias. A thrum of satisfaction ran through his frame, as well as uneasiness. Moving closer, staring, he bent over slightly, and poked it at with a long, slim digit. Just a small tap on the Energon-streaked arm, as well as the faint, glowing blue indentations in the metal.

After a moment, Soundwave straightened up, preparing to turn the strangely familiar-looking mech over, when he heard a hiss, and found himself being thrown to the ground. He stared up at the dim red optics, meeting his own, scars standing out on its dark grey faceplates, sharp dentae bared in a snarl. For a moment, he was still and silent, listening to the sound of the other's vents puffing air, in and out, his arms pinned. And then, he blinked, "Injured?"

The slight look of surprise caught him off guard, as well as the threatening growl, a low, raspy voice emanating from it—it?—its vocalizer, "_Soundwave superior. Not hurt._"

Anxiety flared in his EM field, unwilling to move. The mech looked unstable, wary, and was obviously quite hurt. But Soundwave didn't voice that aloud. He simply asked, "Designation is Soundwave?"

"_Correct. Designation: Soundwave. Superior._"

Superior. He nodded his helm, trying to seem understanding, "Superior."

Although the suspicious look remained, he could see that the word calmed the mech slightly, its grip relaxing. Soundwave didn't question the fact that it seemed to be a copy, that it looked almost exactly alike. He preferred to stay in one piece.

"Status?" he tried to think his next word out carefully, "Autobots?"

The word caused the other to freeze up, optics brightening. He detected fear, wariness, and pain in its open EM field. And then a choking out of static, "_Dream. Still in Shadowzone. All a dream_."

There was a prod to his chestplates, on the blue circle, "_False. Duplicate: False._"

He nodded his helm, going along with it, unwilling to trigger another reaction, "False."

"_Why?_"

"Do not know."

"_Must know. Dream. Part of dream._"

The hold loosened entirely, and the blue mech drew away, collapsing back onto the forest floor, "_All a dream. Soundwave's dream._"

He sat up, backstruts covered in mud, and dead leaves. Pity resonated in his EM field, as his blue optics flitted over the other, hunched and staring listlessly at the ground. The frame type—it was his own. Everything about the mech was like him. The only differences seemed to be the colors, the personality, and the fact that his armor was nearly all stripped away. Scars stood out on his protoform, biolights covered and blotted with dirt and Energon. Something wrong had happen. The first conclusion he had was that the Autobots had created a clone—he certainly wouldn't put it past them. Next was the wondering question of how long—how long it had existed. From the wounds inflicted, the tell-tale smooth cuts in his midriff, the jagged claw marks on its face, and around its shoulder area. Some of those were older, scarring, bluer than the current Energon clotting with the mud. He would have time to guess later.

Soundwave slowly stood, as to not startle the other mech, and took a step forward. Seeing no reaction whatsoever, he took another step, ready to defend himself if the need arose. However, the strange mech didn't seem particularly aggressive at the moment. Just staring down, focusing all of his attention on the mud. A light, noninvasive scan on his frame showed that Energon levels were low; frame functionality was forty-two percent, although he didn't seem to have trouble moving.

Upon closer observation, his bright cyan optics flitting over the cracked, broken plating, he could see tears in the tender mesh of his protoform, clotted with streaks of blue. But was still alive. Was still going. Determined was the one word that kept popping up in his processor. This was a very determined mech.

He felt the red gaze on him, before he even bothered to look down at him. The mech, his duplicate, a clone. It was staring at him, optics narrowed, one brighter than the other. He could see Energon flecked on the lenses, a bright spot of blue. He held his servos up, preparing to back away, "No harm. Only help."

"_Soundwave is not hurt._" The mech clumsily managed to stand, balancing precariously, showing absolutely no signs of discomfort as he glared, "_Soundwave is in perfect condition. He is in perfect condition._"

That was it. He took a step back, alarm obvious in his expression, "Hurt." he insisted, "Injured."

"_Blue._" was the hoarse reply, "_Blue optics. Autobot. Hurt. Try to, anyhow. They cannot touch him. They cannot._"

"Calm," Soundwave tried reasoning, "Need to calm. Shh."

Not the best course of action. He ducked, propelling himself backwards as a swipe was directed at him. The mech seemed different now. Coordinated. Determined. Optics had brightened, glowing red, snarling like a feral beast, showing off its danger-looking dentae. Alarm bells went off in his processor, as he stepped sideways, carefully keeping himself out of reach. He did not want to hurt it. He did not.

"_Autobots injured him. But they shall never prevail, being the foolish, Primus-forsaken idiots they are,_" the duplicate spat, moving forward, "_Now fight. Fight him. Do it._"

It was simple instinct, really. Soundwave darted forward, his leg shooting out as he intended to trip it. Instead, he received a heavy kick to his midriff, stumbling backwards, and then found himself being hoisted up, thrown to the ground. A pede slammed into his chestplates, pressing down painfully. Feelers shot out, pinning his arms to the forest floor, uncaring for the Energon that welled up as they dug into the metal of his smooth plating.

He didn't know how it had happened. Less than a moment. He had not been expecting this. That was skill. That was not mindless fury. That was talented, trained skill. And he had the intelligence not to resist, for fear of provoking the other further. No inquiries were made, although his processor was filling with them. So instead, he just stared, stared at the crimson optics, still bright with rage, which glared down at him. And the only conclusion he could find was one word. One that he did not bother to hold back, despite the uneasiness he was feeling.

"Broken."


End file.
